No Sweet Goodbye
by Dancing in the dark
Summary: Captain Jack Sparrow was a man that never spoke of his past. He was the only one alive with the memories of what happened one horrible night twenty years earlier. But what if he wasn't the only survivor?
1. Prologue

**No Sweet Good-bye**

**A/n: Hello all, new story. Don't kill me. I know it's been about a year or more since I've posted anything. Anyway, tell me what you think!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Pirates Of The Caribbean, okay? Okay. :-)**

**Onward to the story...**

**And please leave behind a review when you finish!**

**Prologue**

"Mummy, tell me a story!" A five-year-old little slip of a girl, looked up at her mother, who looked like a princess tonight, with an impish gleam in her sparkling blue eyes. She knew it was not likely her mummy would have time to tell her a tale. She was going to a ball tonight! Hannah wished she was big enough to attend as well. But, as she was constantly told, she wasn't yet. Well, she would be one day! And then _she_ would be the one in the princess gown. But, right now what the child was most interested in was not dancing the waltz on a ballroom floor for an entire night, it was only to simply get her mother to tell her a story before she went to sleep.

"Mummy, please?" Gwendolyn Sparling smiled down at her youngest child. Hannah never gave up on anything. Especially when it came to having things her own way. She was just like her when she was her age. Strong-willed; insistent. Though her husband liked to call it stubborn. She had only an hour before the carriage arrived, but she would like to do nothing more with it than weave a story for her little girl to dream about throughout the night. She loved her children more than anything in the world. More than her ever-growing social life, more than all the lovely gowns she owned. More than the status her husband's name held, and more than all the servants she had at her beck and call whenever she needed them. More than herself, Gwendolyn loved her family. And so she sat at the edge of Hannah's extravagant canopy bed, and decided to tell her a story her own father had told her on those evenings they sat by the fireplace, she on his knee, looking up at him like he was her hero. And her father _was_ her hero, Gwendolyn mused. He always had been, and always would be. No matter what he was.

She shook her head to clear up the memories of a beloved yet painful childhood. She was here now, with her daughter, not with a man that had disappeared one day, and never returned. And she was going to tell her a tale that her father had once told her was _far_ from a lie. Not that she had believed him at the time, but one learned.

"All right, darling, lay back and I'll give you your story." And so she weaved a breathtaking yet horrifying tale of pirates and islands that held so much treasure, you could swim in it, if you had a mind to. She told of one man, one dark haired swashbuckler, that traveled the seven seas, fought the undead, rescued damsels in distress, and finally settled down and married. She'd told this one to her own son many times, and every time she did, he sat entranced, spellbound. Just as little Hannah was now. And when she finally kissed her little girl goodnight, and blew out the candle on her night table, Gwendolyn felt she had done the right thing in picking tonight of all nights to tell that particular story, though she didn't quite know why. She was just glad that both her children now knew the story, just in case.

She closed the door behind her, and walked down the grand staircase that led to the lower quarters of the gigantic house. Waiting by the door was her husband, her soul mate, with his dark eyes, and dark hair worn a little longer than was currently fashionable. She fell in love all over again, as she always did when she set eyes upon him. He was a tall and formidable man, and each time he moved, you could see a splay of muscles under his clothing. Woman all around the Caribbean were after him, but he only had eyes for his wife. And just as woman were after him, men were after her.

She was considered one of the fairest ladies around, with her pale gold hair, and sparkling blue eyes. She loved only one man. They were the most sought after and talked about couple of the season. They were a smart match: both handsome, _and _wickedly smart. Not to mention wealthier than Midas. But that wasn't why they had married. Gwendolyn hadn't even liked Jackson upon first setting eyes on him. He had been everything she'd despised in a man: arrogant, charming, and domineering. He liked to call it getting his own way, but she knew better. He _was_ domineering, especially when he wanted to be, and even when he wasn't trying, the man was intimidating. Despite each of her many rejections, he had ruthlessly courted her, and then wed her. And now they had two beautiful children and an amazing life she wouldn't trade for anything.

Standing beside him, was her ten-year-old son, Jackson Jeremy Jr., better known to the world as J. J. Sparling. He was every inch his father, in mind and body. How nice it was going to be when J. J. grew and she had _two_ arrogant, domineering males to deal with. She didn't care, just the pleasure of watching her first born grow into a young man, would override everything else. Poor darling Hannah would have much to contend with when she came of age. J. J. was already the overbearing big brother when he wasn't acting annoyed to have a younger sister toddling around after him, and Hannah was the apple of her father's eye. Gwendolyn looked forward to it all. She smiled down at her little boy and kissed the top of his head.

"You behave yourself tonight, young man. And get to bed _on time_ this time. You have poor Marie in fits by the time we arrive home!" She said this firmly, but with a smile of her beautiful face.

J. J. rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mother."

Jackson laughed, and put an arm around his son. "Leave him alone, Gwen. He's a big lad now, let him have some fun."

"If you call swinging from the drapes like an ape, _some fun_, Jackson Sparling, then you have another think coming!"

J. J. had the grace to look embarrassed. "It was _one time_ Mother, will you never let me live it down?"

Now it was Gwendolyn's turn to laugh. "Never, my dear. A mother needs stories to embarrass her son with, after all. I can't wait till you're betrothed, imagine the laughs your wife-to-be and I will have!"

J. J. looked at his mother, a bit annoyed, and then broke out into a smile. His mother had a talent for that, making people smile. She had once made an old scrooge of a man smile, the same one that was known as the man that had never so much as turned his lips upwards in his entire life. She was magical like that. Who could help but smile at someone like her? He couldn't even be the slightest bit angry with her! She _was_ the greatest mother in the world, after all.

"Then I shall have to become dull and boring, I'm afraid, Mum. That is the only remedy to your treacherous plans, I fear." His eyes were sparkling just as much as hers now. They always traded banter like this, their whole family.

"_You_ dull and boring, my heart? I do think it impossible! What about you, Jackson? Do you think our son can ever be dull and boring?"

"J. J.? _My_ son, you mean? Never! The Earth would have to fall from it's axis first!" J. J. looked up at his father, and they exchanged crooked grins. He loved his parents.

"Well, off you go, the both of you! You'll be late, will you not? Mother, I will be sure to torture Hannah and set the kitchen afire! Father, I promise to make you proud!"

That was the last promise young J. J. would evermake to his father.

**A/n: Sooo, what did ya'll think? Chapter One being written as you read this.**


	2. Chapter One

**No Sweet Good-bye**

**A/n: Well, here's Chapter One. And as far as my old stories are concerned, I have an update for _To Hate Her Own_ as well. I wonder how many of you have forgotten about it by now? Either way, remembered or not, I want to thank the people that reviewed my older stories.**

**Much love,**

**Dancing In The Dark (and I'm considering changing my pen name, but I'm not sure yet)**

**Disclaimer: Look to prologue.**

**Chapter One**

Sometimes at night she would dream. In those dreams there was a big house, and laughing faces. It smelled of flowers and burning wood. It was nothing like the way she was used to living, and she had no idea how she, a mere slave, could dream of something so extravagant, when all she'd ever set eyes upon was the slum of the streets. Oh, when she had to dance it was beautiful places she traveled to, dressed in the finest silks. But they were all palaces, and she never saw the insides of the rooms, couldn't begin to know what each one held behind the doors. But in this dream, it was a house. No, a mansion. No palace, by far, but grand in it's own rights. A home. A place a beautiful little family lived. She could taste the food they ate, feel the softness of the beds they slept in. All she'd ever eaten was scraps, hardly filling. And she slept in a cold cell at night. In this dream, she was full and happy and smiling. She never smiled in reality. She had nothing to smile for. The only time a smile was on her face was when one needed to be there. When she was dancing for important, rich men. For kings. When she was dancing, she was free. And with that freedom, a gleam came to her eyes. But that was the only time. In this dream, she always had a gleam in her eyes. Always. That's why she slept more as of late. In the dream she could escape and be happy for a little while. In the dream, she couldn't feel the wounds on her back from the flogging she had taken a week ago. They still hadn't healed fully. She still tossed and turned from the dull ache they brought. Her master was lucky he had clothes that could conceal all the scars he had given her. She was his best dancer, and with a bit of smugness that was dangerous for a slave to have, she knew he would be nowhere without her.

8 8 8

Captain Jack Sparrow was heading for Egypt. After the adventure he'd had with the young Turner couple nearly a year ago now, he was spoiling for another. Or at least spoiling to make trouble in different surroundings. Wherever the thirty-year-old captain went, trouble followed in his wake. It was just his unbelievable charm, he knew. It had been at least six years since he had last set eyes upon the hot sands of the desert, and he figured it was time to go back and have a little fun. His crew could really use the rest anyway, he thought. They had just finished taking over yet another bloody merchant ship, after the sixteen they'd already found this month alone. It was getting old, boring, and tiring. There was a time for work, and a time for celebrating. It was time for celebrating. He looked up into the sun, and closed his dark khol-lined eyes for a brief second. He was glad to be leaving behind the Caribbean for a little while, anyway. He could never stay there for long. Too many memories. Yet he could never stay away, either. Pushing down the distant yet familiar feeling of grief at the thought of his history with the blue waters of the Caribbean, Jack Sparrow focused on steering his beloved ship, his only family.

**A/n: Short, I know. The next few chapters may be a bit short, as I feel the story out. But I do know where it's going. What did you guys think? Let me know! I'll love you forever!**

**Dancing In The Dark**


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